Frigid
by Selenese
Summary: There is something about her, something that he cannot place. USSR/Fem! America. (RusAme) Cold War AU. M Rated. Oneshot.


_**1957 New York, NY**_

There is something about her, something that he cannot place.

She reminds him of one of her Hollywood stars. Celebrities with all their fame and fortune, though when you stare into their dull and lifeless eyes, you see those whose childhoods have been stripped from them to feed the greed of the producers and executives in control. When he had first heard of the young colony, he had been excited. She had been young then, another mere colony of the British Empire. He had first met the little cherub when she was just a child. Britain had invited her along with him to conduct business in various countries throughout Europe. She was so small and innocent then, staring up at him with wide fascinated eyes. Ivan himself had been quite powerful at the time, and he had not missed the opportunity to show off his might to the tiny Anglo-Saxon colony.  
When he had learned of the young colony's strife with her caretaker, Ivan was quick to support her rebellion. Any nation that would go against Britain was a potential ally of his, and he was never shy in letting his support for Amelia's independence be known. He was also all too eager to pillage the young nation's lands for wealth and resources, but that was to be left to another time.  
Though as the centuries passed, Amelia's power began to grow and before his eyes she had established herself as a world power, and not just any world power, but the leading superpower of the world. The head country to be respected and feared by all. This nation, who Ivan had formerly had decent, friendly ties with had now transformed herself into a formidable enemy.

"_Amerika_," her name leaves his mouth in the form of a purr. They have played this game for so long now, this silly game of cat and mouse. Trapped in the eternal dance of a never ending power struggle that left the whole world with frostbite.  
The star-spangled nation lifts her head at the sound of her name, cerulean-blue eyes narrowing as soon as they befall upon the large Slavic country. She tips her nose up to the ceiling, an air of arrogance surrounding her. He feels it then, that familiar flare of rage that floods his being whenever he is in her presence. Her arrogance, her obvious disinterest in him. She is no longer fascinated by him as she once was. She feels that she is better than him, that her culture, her ideology, and her country surpasses his in every possible way. She is the land of the free, the home of the brave. The navel of the Earth.  
Amelia shifts under his piercing stare, though it is not because of nervousness or fear. She reaches forward to pick up a tube of lipstick from her vanity. It's a bright red color, one that is fierce, powerful, wild and so much like Amelia herself. The blonde purses her lips and glides the smooth lip stain along her pouted mouth and Ivan watches intensely. This woman ignites something within him, a dark and wild flame that excites him like nothing else can. It is a dangerous feeling. Violent. Deadly.

"How did you get in here?" she does not turn to face him. He sees her reflection in the vanity mirror, yet her eyes still do not meet his.  
In return, he does not answer straight away, preferring rather to survey the female-nation's ensemble. She wears a tight-fitting white dress. It is backless, dipping down far enough for him to see her delicate shoulder blades, spine, and the dimples of her lower back. Amelia was a curvaceous nation, fertile with wide hips and thighs. Her waist was tiny, and she had a large bust in which she was not ashamed of flaunting. His eyes linger on what she presents before him, and he licks his lips.

_Be careful, Ameliya._

"The guards are not so hard to deceive. You would think that this hotel's security would be much tighter, especially knowing that their precious nation resides within its walls."

He watches Amelia's expression through the mirror, an emotion crosses her face. One that he cannot quite place exactly. It's as if she were briefly unnerved by this, but she quickly neutralizes her features, preferring instead to powder her face with a translucent setting powder.

"Why are you here, Soviet Union?"

Ivan walks over to the miniature bar which hosts a fancy arrangement of alcohol. A familiar gold and clear bottle catches his eye. He'll leave her to guess for now.

"_Khlibnyi Dar?_" He asks, his face splitting into a wide grin as he turns back to the female-nation.

"And what are you doing with this, _dorogaya_? This is much too strong for you."

Ivan watches in amusement when she scrunches up her nose in the mirror.

"I didn't personally request it. It's just part of the room service I guess."

Ivan then takes notice to the empty Coca Cola bottle sitting on her vanity. He rolls his eyes. Her immense power causes him to forget just how childish she really is sometimes.

The Slavic nation grabs the bottle of vodka and pours himself a glass. He raises it to his lips, eyes twinkling with unrestrained mirth.

"So you just happened to have my favorite drink on hand?"

Amelia scoffs. He is only teasing, but he cannot resist.

"There is a variety of alcohol placed in the hotel rooms of all nations. We are trying to ensure that our guests find the accommodations to their liking. UN meetings are kind of a big deal, y'know?"

Amelia, still not facing Ivan, raises an eyebrow in the mirror, "And speaking of which, shouldn't you be preparing for tomorrow? You have to explain that little satellite stunt of yours."

Ah yes, _Sputnik_. The "little satellite" had caused quite a commotion around the world. Let them know who they were reckoning with. This was only the beginning.

"Do not act impassive, _dorogaya_. We watched your terrified reaction all the way from Moscow."

Amelia turns now, finally deciding to face him directly.

"Tomorrow you'll get the chance to cover your ass. What you've done is reckless. Are you trying to hold the whole world hostage?"

Ivan advances towards her, satisfied that she is meeting his eyes. The alcohol warms his body, loosening him.

"Not the whole world," towering over her, he pulls her into his arms roughly "Just you."

Amelia fidgets a bit, whether from anticipation or discomfort he doesn't know. He suspects she isn't entirely comfortable with affectionate touch from him yet. They'll get there eventually, he thinks.

"I've been thinking…" He can feel the rushing in his blood, and Amelia tilts her head playfully.

"A dangerous pastime."

He smirked in agreement, his hands traveling down the expansion of her body. The frustration, the confusion, the anger. All of these conflicting emotions he feels towards her are beginning to bubble at the surface. He can no longer suppress them anymore. "There is a lot I've had to come to terms with."

Amelia grins knowingly, "And that is?"

"I'll show you," His grip on her hips are bruising and he leans down over her smaller frame to inhale the sweet scent of her perfume.**  
**Ivan grabs the younger nation's forearm, the force of his grip strong enough to snap the appendage of any mere human. Amelia, however, is not human. She is a nation, a superpower. She has endured far worse than Ivan's current treatment. This is him at his most gentle after all.  
The Slavic nation lifts her with ease and pins her to the vanity table. Amelia grins cheekily, wrapping her long, slender legs around the taller nation's waist. Ivan grinds his hips into the blonde, smirking when she lets out a hushed moan. He grips her chin and pulls her forward into a crushing kiss. He likes her like this, adores her even, when her voice is being used for activities such as this instead of speaking and lecturing to the world. He had once told her that she was beautiful when she kept her mouth shut, and he stands firmly by his words to this day.  
He undresses Amelia first, pulling the straps of her white dress from her shoulders and gliding the smooth fabric down her body. Ivan hooks his fingers into her panties and slides them slowly down her legs, only to carelessly discard the undergarment onto the floor. His fingers tweak her perky nipples, and he lowers his head to take a delicate rosebud into his mouth. It hardens beneath his tongue and Ivan leans back with a smirk, flicking the sensitive bud with his fingers. Amelia flinches and glares up at the Slavic nation, but his fingers move between her legs. His large, thick fingers probe at her dampened core and the blonde moans quietly, beginning to fidget under his touch.  
His hands move to his pants next, eager fingers unbuckling his belt and unfastening his pants. His member sprung forward in his hand, large and stiff and the look on Amelia's face sends a shiver of anticipation through him. Her eyes took in the sight of Ivan's protruding need and she bit her lip, pretty blue eyes glancing up at him playfully. She was challenging him.

Ivan places himself at her entrance, gripping her hips tightly.  
He emits a low growl as he presses inside her slick folds, forcing his throbbing cock through her tight barrier. She stretches around him as he buries himself deeper within her warm sheathe. She's so tight, so tiny and wet around his cock, and he groans in relief at the sensation. She fits around him so perfectly, so beautifully, as if they were made for one another.  
He clenches a fistful of her blonde hair firmly in his hand as she pants beneath him. He pounds into her mercilessly, his thrusts powerful and bruising.  
Oh, how long has he wished to dominate this nation, this woman that calls herself the leading superpower? This Anglo-Saxon country, so young, arrogant, and foolish. He enjoys the feminine sounds she makes. The mewls and whimpers that fill his ears as she writhes around his cock.

"Hah-hah-ah..."

She is beautiful, stunning really, and he cannot look away. Her body is like a canvas, and he wonders briefly how she could manage to stay so fit with the amount of fast food and pre-made garbage that she eats. One large hand cups her breast, while the other travels down the delicate form of her body. Her golden-tanned flesh glistens in the dim lighting of the room.  
Let her feel him, let her take him in. Receive him. All of him. Let her feel his strength, a strength far superior to that of her own. He is the one in charge, _he_ is the most powerful nation in the world, and he demonstrates this now as he fucks her, dominating her in the greatest way a nation could ever dominate another. America only understands force. This is something his politicians and military officials always say, and something that he has always known. America only respects the strong, and this is why he only laughed heartily when he observed smaller, lesser nations ask for America's hand. She was always polite in her rejection of such proposals, simply batting her eyelashes and flustering the said unsuspecting nation with a dazzling Hollywood smile. The only time Ivan could ever recall Amelia being interested in a romantic partnership was during her war for independence. The Prussian Empire had trained the young colony and prepared her for her eventual war with Britain. Ivan could in fact recall the colony speaking quite highly of the Germanic nation, as well as her flustered behavior whenever he was around. Though there was no evidence that Prussia returned any feelings for the young nation, or if he even knew of the existence of such feelings in the first place.  
The thought of the two nations together enrages him, and he snarls possessively.

Prussia is dead anyway. He had seen to that himself.

He grabs her hips, lifting her off the desk and onto the bed beside it. Amelia lets out a cry of surprise when she hits the sheets, but Ivan does not allow her to be startled for too long. He pushes himself back inside, and her body welcomes him. Amelia lets out a small gasp, be it from surprise or pain, Ivan doesn't care. The thin sheet of sweat that covers their bodies allows for the sound of wet skin slapping against wet skin. Ivan's appreciative grunts and Amelia's airy moans fill the room. He is sure that anyone outside of the hotel door can hear them, and that thought sends a thrill through him.

He wants to hear his name.

He needs to hear it, just once from those beautiful lips. This need to be acknowledged and validated by her praise consumes him and he hates her for it. Hates that this young female nation had managed to exalt herself above all others in a span of only a few hundred years while it had taken himself _centuries_. He increases his pace, driving viciously into the young blonde. He's the sadist to her masochism. He knows that deep within her soul, Amelia desires to be dominated by someone worthy of her. A nation powerful enough to fight against her and put her in place, someone to keep her in check. He's told her this, after all, he knows everything about her from decades of spying, watching, stalking. Amelia is stubborn though, refusing to admit that her most hated foe could even dare to know the deepest, darkest parts of her nature. Ivan, however, does not judge, as they are far more similar than their respective leaders would have the world believe. They balance one another, dangling the world and all lives that reside on it by a string. A string that could so easily be severed if one of them were to make the wrong move.  
The force and power behind his thrusts causes the headboard to crash into the wall behind it, splintering the wood and denting the expensive metal. Amelia's head sways from side to side, delirious from the pleasure of being debauched so perfectly.

"Hah-hah-Mmm-"

"My name," he growls as he leans forward to bite her neck. He sucks on the tender skin, running his tongue over the mark that he leaves behind. He hooks one of her legs over his shoulder, the angle giving him better access to her. She mews and pants breathlessly when he sets a dangerous rhythm, pounding her body into the mattress as her hands grasp the crisp linen sheets. Ivan can only stare in awe of her.  
This stupid nation. This beautiful, enchanting, stupid nation...

"Ross-Rossiya-ha-ah!"

The blonde can't speak, all she can focus on is the feeling of the older nation's cock inside of her. He's so big and hard and hot and thick and good inside her, and she thoroughly enjoys the feeling of being filled to the helm by him. Amelia can't think, though she knows Ivan wants something from her, wants her to comply to his demands. And she will, oh God, she will. Only if he doesn't stop, as long as he never fucking stops.

"Ngh-Rossi, oh God, Rossi..." She whines in that singsong, baby-like voice. The one used by the female stars of the Golden era that could make a weaker man fall to his knees. Ivan grips her neck firmly. Amelia's moans only grow louder and throatier. Her hands go from grasping the sheets to raking down his back, perfectly manicured nails only adding to the many battle scars that adorn the Slavic nation's body. They are close enough so that their foreheads are touching, and the two superpowers rutt against each other, desperate for the sweet release that only this act could bring them. Suddenly, Amelia arches beneath him, her toes curl into the sheets and Ivan enjoys the feeling of her breasts pressing against his chest.

"IVAN!"

There is a flash of white behind her eyes, bright hot pleasure that overwhelms her senses, and she trembles beneath the large male, cumming all over his cock. She moans wantonly and digs her nails into the other superpower's shoulders, shapely legs pulling his hips closer.  
Ivan snarls in pleasure, pumping himself thrice into the female nation before shuddering and releasing himself inside of her, balls deep as ropes of warm, sticky semen coat her womb, marking her as his and his alone. He collapses on top of the smaller country, and she lets out a small squeak. He peppers smooth, wet kisses along her face and neck, inhaling her sweet, musky scent into his nostrils.

"Mmm…_dorogoy, chto ty sdelal so mnoy_?"

He growls huskily as his nose lazily traces the delicate curvature of her neck. He rides out his high, allowing himself a few more deep thrusts inside of the beautiful blonde.  
Amelia, who had by now come to her senses, reached up to smooth down the larger nation's silver-blonde hair. He allowed the affectionate action from her, enjoying the feeling of her gentle fingers along his scalp. Suddenly though, Amelia pulls away. Now, for the first time that night, using her strength to push the larger country off her. Ivan allows this, but he is taken slightly aback by Amelia's sudden distantness. He cannot help the smirk that comes to his lips though as she wobbles to her feet, legs shaking slightly as she begins to dress herself. He licks his lips and watches as she slips on her lacy panties before slinking over to the wardrobe and pulling out a thick, plush, white robe. Amelia ties the garment around herself and reaches for a bottle of whiskey near the nightstand. She pours herself a glass before seating herself right back at her vanity, grabbing a brush to run it through her now flustered honey-blonde hair.  
Ivan takes the initiative to get dressed as well, his eyes trained on the female nation the entire time. As he fastens his belt, he walks over to stand behind her, glaring at her reflection through the mirror once again. Amelia does not look at him, she only continues to run the bristles through her golden locks.

"You can leave now," she states, turning her head a fraction to address him, she looks right through him as if she were bored of his mere presence, as if he were nothing.

How dare she?

How dare she act as if he were obsolete? What did she view him as? Some fuck toy? Some man-whore that she could use to sate her desires only to toss him away when she was finished?  
Oh, how he wished to strike her in that moment. To slap that arrogant expression off her face. To wrap his fingers around that pretty little neck of hers and beat her until she begged for him to cease. He could technically do this. The doors were locked, and she was vulnerable. But instead of allowing his rage to get the better of him, he instead forces a condescending smile, amethyst eyes darkening as he rises to his full height, towering over her smaller frame. His jaw clenches.

"That is it then?"

Amelia takes a swig of whiskey,

"Yes." she replies "It's late, we've got a busy schedule tomorrow."

"Are you," he can feel the fury beginning to rise to dangerous heights within him, "Dismissing me?"

Her reflection rolls its eyes in the mirror.

His jaw clenched again.

"I am glad that I could be of service to you, _dorogaya_," he hisses the pet name with unconcealed malice, "But you do not get to throw me out like some dog to the street."

"I can, and I will." Amelia is now smiling in the mirror. She can see that she is getting under his skin.

"And if you refuse," she opens the drawer of her vanity, and a flash of something metal catches the light. A pistol. "Well, I'm an excellent shot."

Ivan frowns.

Not because he fears the gun. He has been shot before. Hundreds of times. The pang of pain that he feels at her rejection magnifies his anger.

Ivan gathers his things and begins towards the door. What did he expect exactly? He curses himself for his stupidity, while another part of him feels strangely...empty. Is it from sadness, humiliation, disappointment? He finds himself without an answer. He reaches for the door.

"Ivan,"

Amelia's call stops his actions and he turns slightly to face her, annoyed and hopeful all at once.

"I did get that bottle for you."

She turns back to her vanity. This time dismissing him for good. She knew that he would come that night, and this realization raises more questions within him. Perhaps, tomorrow at the UN, they'll pick up where they left off last time: shouting at each other. Or, perhaps they'll be a bit more civil towards one another and try to improve their relations. One thing is for certain though. There's still something he just can't place about her.

And so Ivan, The Union of Soviet Socialist Republics leaves, feeling more confused and irritated than ever.

* * *

**A/N:** Ivan's kind of sexist isn't he? I hope I didn't offend anyone with the language used in this lol. He's this way because in Russian culture, gender roles are quite apparent where the man is considered dominant and the woman is considered submissive, also this is the 1950's lmao. Ivan also had trouble coming to terms with his greatest rival being a female nation, so these sexist thoughts are sort of a combination of all these things. Basically, up until this point, Ivan had been denying his attraction to Amelia, then he decided that he simply lusted after her, and finally he came to terms with the realization that he'd become infatuated with her, and that his feelings for her had developed into that of a sort of love-hate obsession. So, one night, The USSR acts on his desires and feels confusion, sadness, anger and jealousy when he is ultimately rejected by America in the end because, well, this is America we're talking about. She has hella commitment issues and is a free spirit that cannot be tied down, that is, unless she is forced to. (Even then she'd fight like hell.) So, Ivan comes to the conclusion that he must force Amelia to submit to him in every way, hence the progression of the Cold War.  
And we all know how the Cold War went lol.

SPOILER ALERT: He does not succeed. ;)

**Translations:** _dorogoy, chto ty sdelal so mnoy?: _darling, what have you done to me?


End file.
